By Annie Sewell-Jennings
Sequel to Sugar Water
NOTE: The title is ripped off from Yo La Tengo's song, "Deeper Into Movies". I think I'm going for this whole theme of oddly-named stories.
Tonight, Xander's going to break up with Spike.
Well, okay, not break up with Spike because they never really went out anywhere. Just lots of sex. That's all. They're mostly a stay-in couple. Except they're not a couple! No! No coupling! It doesn't matter if sometimes, when Spike's reading old copies of Playboy and smoking in bed, Xander thinks about holding his hand. It's just that Spike has the smoothest fingers ....
Okay, so maybe he won't break up with him tonight.
Xander groans. He's pacing back and forth in the basement, running his hands through his hair over and over again. Glances nervously at the door. Spike's out tonight, gone wherever it is an impotent (well, not really impotent) vampire goes when he's bored. And something bad had happened before he'd left. Something awful.
Spike had kissed him goodbye.
It wasn't a teasing kiss. Not one of those mocking, wicked games Spike often plays with him. No, this was ... sweet. A soft brush of the vampire's lips against his, and the barest brush of his fingers across the scruff of Xander's neck. It caught him off guard, and his eyes were open the entire time. Staring at Spike's impossibly long eyelashes.
When Spike pulled away, he looked almost ... shy. Looked down at his boots. "Uh, right, then," he said. "I'm off."
And he stomped out in all his black leather glory, and Xander was left reeling. It was a very bad thing, indeed.
Cause just for a moment, he fell in love with him.
His palms are sweaty. Stupid palms. Xander glances again at the readout on the clock. Almost three in the morning. Where the hell is he? Spike has to get back soon, before Xander loses his resolve and gets all melty thinking about him. Stupid vampire. Stupid, stupid evil vampire.
"Yeah," Xander mutters to himself. "Stupid, evil, bad vampire. Kissing me like that. Like we're something. Like I like him. Bad and evil ... guy. That's it. This is the end. Adios, amigo. Take the party elsewhere. That's the ticket, Xand. Yeah." A brief pause. "Even if he's sometimes kind of cute."
Like the mornings. The mornings ... they're good. Sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal. Spike puts Froot Loops in his blood, and every morning, Xander calls him a disgusting bastard for doing it. Arguing over who gets the funny pages first. Spike wearing nothing but his jeans, the belt buckle undone, snickering at Snoopy.
Yes, he definitely has to break up with him. Tonight, as a matter of fact. Before things start getting worse.
Before Xander falls in love with him.
Suddenly, the door opens and slams shut. The shuffle of boots. Muttered cursing at the busted lock. "Stupid bloody-" A grunt of irritation, and Xander hears his trademark stomp as he makes his way down the stairs.
Spike's home, and he's trashed. Not just drunk, though yeah, Spike's pretty wasted. But physically? The guy's a nightmare. His face is a mess of bruises, and there's a split in his lower lip. His hair's all messed up and he's soaking wet, like he's been lying in a puddle of bodily fluids and really bad liquor.
The minute he sees Xander, he starts to giggle. He points a wavering finger in his direction. "Look at you," he slurs. "Lookin' all tough and pissed-off-like. Make a fancy housewife, you will. What, I forget dinner again?"
Spike dissolves into giggles, and Xander glares at him. "You're drunk," he says flatly. More laughter. He rolls his eyes. "What the hell happened to you? Where were you? Jesus, Spike, you look like you got mowed over by a tractor trailer."
Spike's stumbling on his feet. Swaying back and forth, giving Xander a scowl. "So I went out," he snaps. "Big bloody deal. Stupid buggering town, this one is. Crap place to live, spitting out wankers like you and those sodding ..."
There's a choked sound to Spike's voice. Like something's caught in his throat. Frustrated, Spike ducks his head and grits his teeth. Points at the lampshade like it's to blame for all his troubles. "Just wanted to have a drink," he sulks. "Just one goddamn drink. Was going to pay for it and everything, and they-"
"They beat you up."
Silence. Spike just stands there, looking humiliated. Bloody and battered. His eyes are on the floor, sad and blue. Funny, how sometimes Xander forgets that Spike's shorter than him. Not a tall guy at all. It's the attitude that makes him forget. But right now? He remembers.
God help me, but I can't throw him away.
Spike sighs then, and sits down on the bed, wincing at the pain. "Just wanted somewhere to belong, you know?" he says. Looks up at Xander with pleading eyes. "You know?"
His friends are always off at college, doing the college thing. Buffy's got her new military boyfriend, so they don't have any use for him anymore, and Willow's always off with that Tara chick. Anya's just drifting away from him, and he's finding himself drawn to the one thing he's really not supposed to have.
"Yeah," Xander sighs, sitting down next to him. "I know."
Gently, he pulls Spike's duster down his shoulders. Spike sits there all the while, staring at him with those forlorn eyes. Vampires really shouldn't be allowed to have eyes like that. It's too unfair an advantage.
When he pulls off Spike's tee shirt, the vampire sags against him, resting his forehead in the crook of Xander's neck. Instantly, Xander freezes. Gets all overwhelmed by the smell. And he should smell awful, should smell really gross, but he doesn't. He smells ... good. Like Spike. He can't resist. Puts his hand on the back of Spike's neck. Runs his hand over the shape of his skull, feels the springy curls. Spike whimpers a little against his shoulder.
"Tired," he murmurs. "Really tired. Bloody pissed, too. Trashed beyond repair. And you smell so good tonight." A little drunken giggle. "But your hair still looks like crap."
"Speak for yourself, bleach whore."
Xander pushes Spike back up into a sitting position, and he sways back and forth, laughing to himself while Xander gets on the floor to take off his boots. "And you know, these really are the ugliest boots ever," Xander says. "I mean, what's the message you're trying to send with these? 'I steal from Goodwill'? Which, actually, you probably do-"
The instant Spike puts his hand on Xander's head, Xander shuts up. Long, slow fingers moving through his hair, caressing his scalp. The barest scratch of fingernails. When he looks up, Spike's looking down at him, smiling. Not that shy smile from this morning, and not the drunk, dumb smile of five minutes ago.
Nope. This smile is much, much worse.
"You know, Harris, I always knew you'd make a smashing prison bitch."
And there goes one nice moment in this whole mess. Xander glares at him. "God, you're such a dick."
Spike just starts laughing again, and Xander sighs, resignedly. Pulls off the boots and the socks. Takes a minute to slide a finger down his slender, bare foot. He gets up and turns off the lights, all the while looking at the vampire sprawled out in his bed.
Xander sighs as he lies down on top of the sheets, and lets Spike wrap himself around him. You wouldn't think it to look at him. You'd never guess that this bad-ass in leather was a snuggler in bed. You wouldn't imagine that sometimes, he's sweeter than candy.
Xander really, really hates him for that.
When Spike kisses him, it's absolutely brutal. Killing him with kindness. Just this buttery, honey-drenched kiss. His tongue sweeps across Xander's teeth, and his poor lip is all swollen and tender. Xander has to kiss it. Just because he looks so vulnerable with it. And Spike's not supposed to be vulnerable.
He's not supposed to kiss like this. Not supposed to put his hand around the back of Xander's neck, those long, slim fingers so cool against his hot skin. Not supposed to sigh when he's kissing, not kiss so deep that Xander's cock jumps and throbs. When Spike slips a thigh between his legs, he can feel the length of the vampire's dick brushing against his balls. "Oh, God, Spike ..."
"Shh," he whispers. "Just a kiss, love. That's all. Just give us a kiss. Please."
How is it possible for a creature who doesn't even know the meaning of the word "please" to say the word so pretty?
So he keeps on kissing him. Runs his hand through Spike's hair, down the sharp angle of his cheekbone. Dances his thumb in circles around his hard little nipple, traces the hard muscle of his stomach.
When Spike is sated, he pulls away and rests his head in the crook of his arm. Draws circles on Xander's stomach with a black-tipped finger. "Do us a favor, pet," he murmurs.
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Don't fall in love with me."
Xander stares at him, horrified. "What? Are you kidding? I'm not in love with you."
Instantly, Spike glares at him. "Well, fine then. Good. Keep it that way. Won't have you following me around, making moon eyes at me every given moment. Cramp my style enough as it is, you miserable shit."
Xander rolls his eyes. "Oh, like you had any style to start with, Spike."
Silence for a moment. Spike's still sketching weird stuff on his belly. What would Spike draw? Probably pictures of him killing all the people who beat him up tonight. "So, if I were falling in love with you, which I'm totally not, but if I were ... why wouldn't you want it?"
Little feathery circles around his navel. "Because I have the terrible habit of falling in love with anyone who gives a shit about me."
Xander doesn't say anything after that.
It's not long before Spike passes out. His cheek warming to Xander's skin, his mouth a little open against his shoulder. Xander finds himself staring at Spike's hand for a long time. Just the shape of it. He's got such slender wrists ...
He was supposed to break up with him tonight. No, not break up. Because this is just a sex-thing, right? Just a sex-thing. A weird, fucked-up, very bad sex thing. But it's not going to happen tonight.
No, not while Xander's in love with him.
But ... maybe tomorrow.